Page 52 of Trivium

you’re a fucking coward.

37

ZEINA

Every day, the cooks tossed out leftovers not eaten by the students, faculty, and graduate Defenders so it could be shipped off for compost. It was a terrible crime, in her eyes, for all that food to go to waste. She started pulling out the baked goods and cakes from the pile a couple times a week, gently wrapping them in a cloth to be brought to the Hydra perch. She tossed them in before they woke, sad that she couldn’t stay to watch them enjoy the fruit custards and flaky crusts.

Today however, as the indigo shell of the sky cracked open to reveal the rusty golden sun, one of the Hydra sat waiting for her.

“So, you’re the one with the sweet tooth?” she whispered over the edge, dropping the contents of her satchel down the wall. She had named the smallest Hydra of the group Junie, simply because it suited her. Junie eyed her as she smacked her lips, sweet berry syrup sticking to her razor toothed grin.

Surely, the baked treats weren’t healthy for the wild beasts. But they were caged, and at the very least, she could offer them some sort of culinary pleasure.

She sat peacefully watching Junie gobble down the treats before she descended the wall and crept through the streets of the Defender Village. Most graduate Defenders were just waking, but the early risers were already up packing in pre-dawn workouts, and she was careful to avoid them.

Junie had put her in a good mood, so after she canvassed the village (as she did every morning to keep watch on the Defender’s movements) she decided to sit outside a mess hall window and enjoy her own breakfast alongside the students.

Zeina was used to being alone. But unlike Jarrian streets, where every day was new, the Academy circled on repeat. The same people doing the same things. Day after day. So, she entertained herself by sitting outside the mess hall, listening in on the students. No one gossiped as much as students in the mess hall. Plus, it helped keep her safe. It was in her best interest to keep tabs on everyone, to hear what people were talking about.

It also made her feel a little less alone.

She had spent a great deal of time learning the voice and footsteps of each student and faculty member, and while she hadn't perfected the skill, she could identify most of them. So, it was easy for her to pick up who was closest to the open window she was crouched under.

“Should we do something? I think she’s losing it,” Emerson said.

“She’s just angry. You would be too if you were her,” Kumani said defensively.

“I don’t know, you should have seen the way she yelled at everyone in the mess hall the other day.”

“Would it be so bad? If we just let her terrorize the place? Seems therapeutic to me,” Artie interjected.

“I’m worried about Ahmina too.” Rory’s voice was barely audible, and for a moment, Zeina questioned who it was.

“This place does have an effect on people,” Artie said. “That’s why you need a proper outlet.”

“Do not bring up Tiras again,” Kumani grumbled. “I’m sick of hearing about him.”

“You’d rather spar than look at the beautiful scenery?” Artie laughed. “Tiras isn’t the only monument around here you know.”

“Sparring is the beautiful scenery, Artie,” Kumani countered. “And don’t worry about Ahmina, Rory, we will all help her practice. She just needs some time.”

Zeina lost track of the conversation as it broke into several smaller ones at once. Eventually, the voices faded as the group left the mess hall, and Zeina’s stomach grumbled. It was time for her to get her own breakfast.

38

AHMINA

Even though it had left a twisted, unusual feeling in her gut, Ahmina agreed when Barrow offered to give her private Combat lessons.

She was desperate for the extra help.

The lessons began with reviewing the basics: how to position her body, bracing for a hit, balance, and stamina. She should have been far past such a rudimentary level, but she still didn’t have the basic skills down. She frequently fumbled her weapons and lost her balance. Barrow suggested that they move to attack methods, which Ahmina struggled to remember, even with Barrow’s instruction.

Even after weeks of one-on-one time, she still performed poorly. She tried to remember everything Barrow said, she really did, but it was like every time she understood how to block, attack, and anticipate her opponent’s next move, it became foggy in her mind—lost in some mental abyss.

Today was no different. As Combat class finished, she waited patiently for the students to clear. Peering up at the clouds that had been creeping in all afternoon, she waited for her weekly session with Barrow to begin.

“We don’t have much time,” Barrow said, following her gaze to the sky. Rainy season in Jarrah had begun and the sky drained itself daily, flooding the ground before the thirsty earth drank it up.